I think what hurt the most
Wasn't the fall.
Or the crash landing.
It was getting up
To witness the wreckage I'd created
On my way down.

I have stepped down from the
Pedestal in which you placed me.
With shaking knees
And sweaty palms.
And I hope that maybe now you'll see
Everything you thought I was
Was what you wanted not me.

I'm vividly aware
Of how influenced by
Your absense I gave become.
Every cough is a sign of death.
Ever upset stomach is
Tragedy.
Every headache
A reminder of your/my frailty.
Every previously unassuming illness
Has now become a warning
For every possible tragedy awaiting.
My life now a series of
Panic attacks brought about by
Possibility over probability.
What lose comes next?
Or will I be the lose?

And then I inhaled,
A deep earth quaking breath.
And exhaled
With an earth shattering roar!
Fire poured from my lips,
Smoke billowed from my nose.
I was no ones little lamb anymore!

My reactions are never
A disgust in you.
But rather
They are a disgust
In myself.

Far to often we leave
after the love turns
To ash in our mouth.
And our lungs harden
Like cement in our chests.
And our hearts,
To diamonds under the pressure
And then shatter.

There are days when I feel as though
I may actually be okay.
It’ll be a good day where I am not
weighed down by anything in my brain.
I can function on a level that almost
resembles normal.

But those days don’t last.
And they are not more then half my days.
Most days I spend in this state of mundane,
existing.

But on my dark days.
On the days when the sky has no light.
And my mind is as turbulent as the sea in a tsunami.
Those days tend to take up my months.
And I spend most days,
Trying not to drown.

But those good days.
God do those good days taste wonderful.
After months of tasting ash and debris in my mouth.
Those good days taste like sunshine.